Characteristic Commonality
by Crystalline Green
Summary: A chance meeting between two women with more in common than they could ever foresee, for Beckett and Dunham find they have a shared spirit for the job and in life. Professionally and personally, they recognise within each other the potential for both teamwork and friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**Characteristic Commonality**

_Playing with other people's toys always was more fun…_

* * *

Beckett strode through the bustling street dodging past the usual New York foot traffic, often an annoyance, but today it was a welcome break to just be out and away from her desk. Two things had driven her away from the 12th that day; desire for a caffeine hit and fear for her own sanity. This was something saved for the most daunting of cases, when the only thing she could do was to step away, take some time out, even if only for 30 minutes in the vaguest of hopes that a break would help her recharge, change her perspective somehow, give her tired eyes and tired mind a fresh edge to work the board upon her return.

She was enduring another marathon shift, already more than 14 hours elapsing since the call rousting her prematurely from sleep. Another psycho busy during the night in her city. What was it about the small hours of Monday morning that almost guaranteed some crazy case would land in her lap? Making matters worse Castle was away, pushing his latest book and god how she wished he were here for this. Since he had been working with her, moments like this, of desperate retreat, had been all but non-existent. He would simultaneously lighten the work and far from being a distraction, he helped to keep her focus.

Even when he was throwing out one of his ridiculously extravagant theories, perhaps just for his own amusement, Castle would be making the tumblers in her mind rotate, even when they didn't fall, she sometimes felt them catch slightly, latch onto a thread of thought which may lead to a moment of inspiration. Again he would be useful at this stage, providing counterpoint to her ideas, adding his own, pushing them towards a revelatory moment of clarity. With him this often happened smoothly, like surfing a glassy wave, riding until the truth breaks. His absence today was a large setback in this process and Beckett felt the weight of the case settle on her more heavily without his support being there.

The day was cooling rapidly as the sun began to sink below the level of the buildings, creating a false twilight for this early spring day, the air temperature dropped and the concrete sprawl gave up the last of the sun's stored heat built up by baking during a clear and unusually warm day. As if drawn by the gravitational pull of the departing sun, an unexpected cool breeze swept through the streets and on it came the comforting scent of fresh coffee, wafting by from her favourite café still more than half a block away.

Beckett was tempted to pick up the pace, to get there faster, but decided against it, this was precisely what she needed. She savoured the moment while she continued her stroll, the alluring aroma full of promise, the residual heat leaching from the sidewalk in contrast with the fresh wind buffeting her, sweeping through her already tousled hair from many frustrated sweeps of her hand as she stood glaring at the murder board. She tried not to let her mind wander back to the case, easier said than done, but she really needed to give herself time away from it.

Soon enough Kate reached the doorway to the shop and pushed her way inside. Perversely the discrepancy between air pressure inside and outside meant a huge gust of wind entered along with her, announcing her entry and startling a few until the door swung shut. She murmured words of apology to the guy seated nearest the door who was now wrestling with his newspaper. Kate pushed her unruly hair back behind her ears and headed to the counter, she was more than ready for a tall cup of hot coffee.

* * *

The blonde woman raised her eyes from her stack of reports when a sudden blast of air erupted through the door, following on the heels of a slightly dishevelled looking woman just entering the café. Olivia watched as she offered apologies to an already grumpy man whose annoyance at the world and everyone in it had just increased. His paper, The Wall Street Journal she would be willing to wage a hefty bet, had been disturbed, much like her own paperwork, which was now disordered all over the tabletop. However Olivia was amused by the whole episode, due in no small part to the annoyance of Gordon Gekko over there. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. This was new to her, having time to sit back and observe, for no other reason than she could. Besides, she'd discovered she quite enjoyed a spot of idle people watching.

Who'd have thought? Olivia Dunham had time to do something mundane, on a whim and perhaps she was even more surprised to find that she liked it. Well, she did have a pretty fantastic excuse to sit back, take things easy and enjoy. Fantastic indeed, unexpected, magical, daunting and exciting all rolled into one and she had every intention of making the most of her current situation and all the benefits if afforded her.

She still had a light smile on her lips as she worked to reorder her paperwork, shuffling them back to fit inside their folders. Learning from her experience by weighting them down with her first and now empty cup. Her second order had been taken and the barista had kindly offered to bring it to her once it was ready. See? Benefits. Olivia had thanked the girl, no longer embarrassed by this type of treatment as at she first had been and retaken her seat.

Now as the tall brunette approached the register, Olivia made her prediction of the preference of her order. Coffee, without a doubt, and a strong one based on her appearance, tired yet still sharp, probably just taking a moment out to refresh. She expected something with added sweetness. Milk, or not? Despite seeking the bite of the caffeine Olivia guessed that the comfort of and added calories in milk would be desirable also. Lastly, stay or go? Needing a break, the time and conditions outside would mean this coffee and this coffee drinker would likely not be going anywhere. The barista stepped up, ready to receive. "Grande skim latte, two pumps sugar-free vanilla, thanks."

"To go?" the Barista asked, not the same girl Olivia had, this one a young guy with floppy hair, a student she thought, making ends meet.

"No, I'll stay in please." Olivia's smile returned and she continued to surreptitiously watch the new arrival, who, she noticed was doing exactly the same; casting her gaze over the rest of the patrons of the shop, observing, noting, and cataloguing information. She probably didn't consciously know she was doing it, a habit born of long hours of practice in a job where recall of facts and faces could prove vital. Olivia recognised this attribute, it was one she herself had and while the pleasurable aspect of this activity was only just revealing itself to her, she also recognised it's professional application, which became second nature, causing you to assess everything, everyone, everywhere. This woman was a cop.

Her style of dress; jeans, black leather boots with a sizable heel taking her out of the 'tall' category and into the realm of 'intimidatingly tall' instead. She wore a weathered brown leather jacket over a smartly casual sweater. Olivia thought she was probably a detective. So far unnoticed she watched the watcher and as the woman turned to survey this side of the room Olivia caught sight of a gold shield clipped at her waist. NYPD.

"Here you are Ma'am," Olivia's thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of her steaming hot cup of tea brought to her table as promised "sorry for your wait."

"Thank you." she said with a smile, and shake of her head to dismiss the unnecessary apology. She pushed her paperwork aside to make room on the small and cluttered table. Yeah, too much nosing, not enough working. She was after all, here to work, though not in her usual capacity.

* * *

Broyles had called her into the Bureau, a rare occurrence of late, things had been quiet recently, very quiet. Allowing her to spend unbroken time at the lab working on projects of the Bishops, straightening up outstanding paperwork, along with the odd case. Those they did catch had been light, nothing earth shattering or world threatening. Much to her chagrin this lead to her being encouraged regularly by all and sundry to take it easy, put her feet up. Now she wonders, why did she ever find that annoying?

On her arrival at the already open door to Broyles' office, she made sure to simultaneously knock and ask if she could come in, her grin and raised eyebrow earning a smile from her once stoical boss. "Dunham" was his usual greeting and today was no exception. He nodded towards the chair opposite his own at his desk "Please, take a seat.

"I'd like to call upon your particular skill set," he said. Olivia inclined her head & shrugged her shoulders, confused; her current condition was not optimal for use of her usual skill set, she'd been off active field duty for several weeks now. Broyles continued with his briefing "Liaison." He said, drawing out the word, just as he did once before and in spite of his smile, obviously teasing, Olivia still felt herself stiffen at his choice of words, even after all this time. The name taking her right back to the beginnings of their relationship when things between them were shaky at best.

Broyles chuckled lightly at her reaction and brought her back to the present. "I could use a good person, I can't think of anyone better than you to place my trust in." She nodded for him to continue. It turned out that there was conference in New York for all law enforcement agencies geared towards improving relations and systems for better, faster sharing of information. "The FBI needs a representative. Besides with the establishment of the new Fringe Division, this is the perfect opportunity for you to work on building a network. While you're out there, look for likely allies receptive to our ideas and needs of course."

So 'Liaison' she would be once more, this time under radically differing circumstances than the first time around. Her flight and hotel in New York had been booked giving her just a few days before she would have to head off and in truth she was bored, so she looked forward to actually doing something useful once more.

* * *

Beckett chose to wait for her coffee, she surveyed the surroundings weighing up where to sit, but after a minute or so she found herself taking inventory of the people too. It was an unbreakable habit it seemed, even if she didn't really notice when it happened any more, but still it was never really switched all the way off. Possibly because of the case, her senses were heightened today, dialled all the way up, even if she was supposed to be giving herself this rest. She huffed out a breath and stroked her forehead, then her hand found its way into her wind-mussed hair once more.

No seats to the left, she tuned to the right side of the room. Sitting nearest the counter in a comfy looking leather chair was a blonde woman gratefully receiving her drink, brought to her by a member of the café's staff. She pushed aside an impressive stack of professional looking brochures and some loose sheets of paper to make room for the steaming cup. Just as she settled the cup down she nudged a leaf of paper with her arm sending it fluttering to the floor. She let out a mildly irritated sigh, and slowly leant down in what turned out to be an aborted attempt to retrieve it. Having almost reached the floor with her outstretched hand, the woman straightened back up she sucked in a sharp breath in obvious discomfort, she quickly leant back and brought her hands to her very swollen middle, sporting a large bump which both her hands came to rest upon, she was very noticeably pregnant.

Concern for the well being of people, even strangers, was also a marker of her job, and in this case and with the distressed reactions of this woman just in front of her, Beckett felt her professionalism notch up a level. She edged closer, feeling compelled to check if her assistance was required. The blonde had her eyes closed, though Kate felt slightly more at ease when she noticed that her face had relaxed slightly and her eyes were no longer scrunched closed in pain. "Ma'am, are you ok?"

Without opening her eyes the woman nodded gently, still holding onto that sharply inhaled lungful of air. Slowly she let it go, breathing out through barely parted lips on a long, controlled exhale. When she had almost exhausted her lungs capacity she opened her eyes once more, slowly swimming back into focus and searching out the concerned watcher. Beckett felt the weight of that olive green gaze as soon as it met her own, somehow instantly conveying sincerity, effortlessly and hauntingly so.

The eyes softened when the woman's smile touched them, causing them to crinkle round the edges, perhaps with a touch of embarrassment also colouring her expression if the slight pinkness rising on her cheeks was anything to go by. None the less her reply came out with a hint of a chuckle "Yes, I'm fine thank you," her hands continued to caress her bulging belly, the cast of her gaze followed suit, she continued her reply to Kate, but now was also talking to her tummy "someone in here has learnt a new trick."

Kate smiled at the warm affection seeping from this woman as she spoke just these few words about her child, she felt herself being drawn in by this person, even though she was unknown to her, still there was something she found instantly endearing. The blonde woman was of a similar age to Kate, perhaps a year or two older. She was dressed in a professional manner, but understatedly so, not even close to the mark of 'power dress' common for NYC businesswomen. Instead she favoured something altogether more utilitarian; soft well cut pants suit in black, with a plain white no-frills maternity shirt, comfortable nothing showy, right down to her shoes, which looked almost like military combat boots in style.

So, not in business. A cop? Maybe, but Beckett didn't think so, or at the very least she was sure this woman was not a New York native, she could be off duty of course, but then why the suit? Not a cop, but somehow she still had that vibe pouring off her, even in her current surroundings and very obvious condition. Perhaps she was in the presence of a genuine WIB. Yeah, that fits, Kate thought.

"She doesn't like it when she gets squished and lets me know she's unhappy in no uncertain terms." Kate watched the woman as she pokes at her belly not so gently, sticking her index finger to a spot on the top right side, then flattening her hand pressing once more with her palm, smoothing with pressure on the heel of her hand, towards the centre of her mountainous bump. "She hooks her feet under my ribs then likes to have a good stretch out." Her eyebrows lifted and a hint of sarcasm colouring her words "A great way of getting me to shift and stop squashing her in a hurry."

Kate bent down to collect the almost forgotten piece of paperwork still on the floor. She instantly recognised the crest on the letter headed paper, something already familiar to her from her time with the 12th, searching through databases and on those cases where FBI involvement was necessary, though not always desired. "Thank you Detective" the blonde woman said as she accepted the paper from Kate, whose eyebrows had shot up in surprise.

* * *

Olivia smiled widely at the surprise clearly displayed all over the face and in the body language of this helpful soul who was clearly concerned for her well-being. It also confirmed that Olivia's hunch was correct. "I notice things too," she said earning her a half smile, half quizzical look from the helpful Detective. "I saw you casing the room," she continued with her thought by way of explanation "checking out the patrons." she gestured around the space to the occupants of the room with her head. "I get it, for someone in law enforcement, it's too useful to try and switch off, then it becomes that you can't."

Olivia, raised her cup from her saucer in a sardonic toast "To professional pitfalls." She sipped some of the fragrant peppermint tea, replaced her cup then offered her hand, "Olivia Dunham." if she was here to network, why keep it to the confines of the stuffy conference room? Besides, she would much rather meet people who are actually out in the field, in her opinion, there was no substitute for time spent with boots on the ground.

"FBI?" the woman queried.

Olivia nodded with a wide, toothy grin. "As charged"

The grin was reciprocated immediately and equally toothy in it's quality "Kate Beckett, NYPD." She said moving closer to engage in a firm shake, something that always satisfied Olivia. Some women tended to grab your fingers in a weird pincer, even some Bureau personnel did it, indeed she'd received a couple earlier today. She usually associated people who subscribed to the 'crab shake' method, as she thought of it, as pen pushers, educated and groomed for the purpose of driving a desk, to the point which would make them essentially useless in the field. She had a feeling that Beckett was not and never would be someone willingly chained to a desk. Much like herself, even though current circumstances meant that she was. It didn't mean she had to like it, though for her baby there was no length she wouldn't go to and she has every intention of doing all she can to ensure her child's safety.

"Please, wont you join me?" Olivia asked shuffling her files once more to make extra space for Beckett's mug.

"Thanks" Kate said taking the other seat situated at the small table, placing her coffee down while she set the chair in a comfortable position and also enabling her to see essentially the entirety of the room, she noted that that Dunham too had put herself with her back towards the corner of the room, pretty sure that she too would have relocated her seat to ensure this was the case.

As the fragrant cup came close to her Olivia caught the tempting aroma carried on the rising vapour. Of course the whole café smelled fantastic, but she found a steaming cup, even when not her preferred black coffee, almost too enticing to resist. She didn't even notice that she had shut her eyes to better savour the unique redolence, until she heard a chuckle from her compatriot. "Sorry," she said slightly embarrassed by her reaction "it feels like it's been an eternity without coffee."

"Must be torture being in here." Beckett said, thinking of how she would feel if she were denied it. "Coffee, coffee, everywhere, Nor any drop to drink…" she mused. Castle would be proud.

"Rhyme of the pregnant coffee-shop-dweller." Olivia supplied recognising Kate's paraphasal of the Coleridge poem. Not only would he be proud, Kate thought Castle would love this woman. "Surprisingly, no it's not," said Olivia, her nose scrunched as her lips lifted "I still love the smell, even though I can't have any. I'd rather have just that, because decaf…" she shook her head in disdain slightly grimacing at the thought "just doesn't cut it."

Kate snorted "Yeah." she couldn't have agreed more. "So, Agent Dunham, what brings you to these parts?" While accent wasn't such a give away for people working for the FBI, there was no hint that she was NY based. It was just a feeling, based on accent and attitude in relation to her surroundings. She thought Dunham was too relaxed to be actively working a case here, well that and she thought she was likely to have been on restricted duties. She also felt confident in the assumption that she would not have been employed in an administrative capacity for her usual role.

The shoes said something, before she had made a connection to military utilitarianism and they were not the only suggestion of a link to service. Dunham's posture while sitting was not rigid, but measured and precise. Both posture and shoe choice could have been something to do with adapting to her pregnancy, but she didn't think so, the shoes looked well worn, they and the wearer seemed comfortable, a good match. The demeanour was proper, practiced, ingrained. In Kate's experience the lack of any strong accent also was indicative of service personnel, multiple moves often making chameleons of people, adapting and fitting in wherever they went, but at the same time, not giving them the strong sense of identity associated with belonging in any one place. Accent however could have been educated away, but once she had put all these things together, she thought it was a strong possibility that Dunham had indeed been in the military at least in some capacity. The shoes also said that this was not someone who expected to be sitting on her ass all day long.

"Olivia, please," she said and Kate nodded her acknowledgement. Olivia continued, "I was sent to attend the interagency conference."

"Downtown?" Kate queried. She'd heard all about it from Gates who had been selected as the NYPD representative for the division and was none too happy about spending a couple of days away from the precinct, especially while they were in the middle of this whole crazy investigation, Beckett had been instructed to call if anything broke. "Yeah, my Captain is there." She answered the next question before it was asked "12th precinct, Homicide."

"I'll look out for her. I've been hobnobbing with all the big wigs and it is exhausting." Olivia sighed and gave an exaggerated eye roll, one Beckett herself would have been proud of. Though she was glad she hadn't been the one to endure all the professional mingling bound to cause such a reaction. "I would much rather be hanging out in the foundations than the penthouse suite."

Kate grinned and tilted her head to one side "Ah there you go, more of those professional pitfalls." Olivia puffed out her cheeks and huffed out a breath on a nod of agreement. Beckett decided to go ahead, jump in and ask the question she was burning to ask. Dunham seemed like a walking contradiction. Evidently someone important within the echelon of the FBI, or she wouldn't be at the conference, but also someone who evidently sought contact at grass roots level rather than with the elite. "So what is it that you do that earns all this executive fraternizing?"

Olivia smoothed at her hair, from temple to braided ponytail, she then picked up her cup relaxed back in her seat, buying herself some time to figure out her response. Although Fringe had now been given a more visible profile, it was still something of a mystery to most, likely to cause confusion and concern to many, or rather it would if they knew it's true nature and the scale of things they had dealt with and would continue to be called upon to contain.

"My Division is expanding. It is multi agency by necessity, so this conference comes at an ideal time and provides us with the opportunity to develop our links within the law enforcement community." Although Olivia's instincts would usually cause her to dodge questions such as the one Beckett just asked, the changes paired with the fact that they were now actively searching out responsive contacts, required her to be more open to discussion. Also, although Beckett was not involved in the event, something about her whispered to Olivia that she could be just the type of person they were looking for.

"We are known as Fringe Division. We specialise in cases of a scientific nature, often labelled bizarre or unexplained by conventional investigative standards." She watched Beckett closely for her reaction; this moment was often telling and would probably serve as a good indicator as to whether or not further contact would be worth pursuing. She hoped that in this instance, her gut was right.

* * *

Kate felt her eyebrow lift, that was not what she had been expecting, but the surprise was a pleasant one. "Beckett flavoured." she said her voice rising with a developing sense of excitement. 'Oh Castle,' she thought 'you would love this.' Olivia's expression at the strange response compelled her to explain.

"I have a reputation at the 12th, for involvement in" she dipped her head in admittance "and enjoyment of 'freaky' cases. My colleagues refer to cases involving anything particularly strange as 'Beckett Flavoured'. My partner also has a flare for the unpredictable." She thought Castle would be fit to burst if he were here right now, she knew it. The mental image made her smile to herself, "Actually that's probably a crazy understatement, if he was here and you'd said that to him he would have fallen over himself in delight and you would now be under fire from a barrage of questions. He might even ditch me, try tailing you for a while…"

Olivia shook her head confused as ever. Kate rolled her eyes at herself, briefly wondering how it was that she felt so open and comfortable in talking with Olivia Dunham, yet somehow she was and felt an instantaneous professional kinship with this woman. It seemed it went beyond professionalism too, one of those strange unpredictable moments when you meet someone and just feel that click and you know that this is a person you could become good friends with, that you wanted to share your time and thoughts with and felt comfortable showing part of your life to. "My partner, Castle, well he's not in the strictest sense of the term, my partner. He is in every way that counts, but he's not NYPD."

Kate's words surprised Olivia, they were striking all manner of chords with her, there was a fondness streaming from Kate in waves when she spoke of her partner and she imagined she would be sending out similar signals if she were talking about Peter. She found she was eager to hear more and it seemed that Kate was happy to extend her story. "You could say it all happened by accident. He was a person of interest in an investigation just over five years ago… It sounds weird when I try and say this all out loud." She shook her head "Unbelievable and crazy even."

"I make a career in crazy and unbelievable remember." Olivia said prompting Kate to continue.

"Yeah, I guess you do." she chuckled. Olivia didn't seem like the type of person who would be either fazed or dazzled by the so-called celebrity status of Castle, his involvement with the team at the 12th and their relationship, so she decided to lay it all down. "My partner is Richard Castle. The mystery writer, yeah" she said reading the flicker of recognition as it crossed Olivia's face.

"The Tisdale case, I read about it, among others and your partnership." Olivia nodded, then she saw the look of embarrassment flashing on the face of Beckett, "Not in the tabloids you'll be pleased to hear," she added hastily. "Internal FBI publication, reporting on cases of interest, yours was one."

Kate was relieved, she knew how it might seem to someone looking in from the outside, but the simple fact was that she and Castle, they just worked. "Sorry," she said with a shrug "I sometimes feel like I need to defend us."

"No need to, I assure you. My team is just about the farthest thing from conventional you could possibly imagine." Olivia said, a mixture of affection, exasperation and alluding to such a lot more just beyond her reply, which in turn further piqued Kate's interest, ever the sucker for a good story. "If it's working for you Detective… I'd say don't worry about what anyone else thinks" she shrugged nonchalantly "and in any case, the article was favourable."

"Who…" Kate trailed off, squinting suspiciously, momentarily confused as to how their work could have become known among FBI circles, but then a light dawned in her eyes. "Jordan Shaw." Olivia nodded the affirmative. The FBI profiler had profiled their work, and it seems their working relationship. 'Such a long time ago and she knew before I did', Kate thought shaking her head at herself, 'or at least before I was ready to act upon the attraction always bubbling under between us.'

Olivia watched as the detective waded through her thoughts, conflicting emotions clearly displayed through rapidly shuffling micro changes in her expressions and she wondered about this woman, her partner and their story. Shaw's article spoke fondly of the pair but remained entirely professional in tone, but now Olivia saw beyond the words Shaw had laid down on the page and could see that Castle and Beckett had something more entirely. Again she thought of Peter and herself and everything they had to get through to be where they were now, perhaps she could see elements of this type of struggle reflected within Kate too. "As I said, she was highly complimentary about your work and your team, especially Mr Castle. She made the case for inclusion of civilian personnel when it was of benefit to the case or the working relationship. I speak from personal experience when I say I agree whole heartedly with that idea."

"We weren't together back then." Kate said, still feeling slightly on the defensive.

Olivia disarmed her with an open smile. "But you are now." it wasn't a question.

"Yes. We have been for over a year."

Olivia's smile grew even wider, god this pregnancy had turned her into the ultimate sap. "Good for you." she said, honestly feeling pleased for Beckett.

Beckett's eyes scrunched, a frown finding it's way onto her face then she blinked slowly, wondering if she should delve deeper into Dunham's life. How could she not when she had just thrown her a bone? "'Personal experience?'" she questioned.

Kate saw a slight flush bloom on Olivia's cheeks, but her gaze remained clear and unblinking, her expression open. "I think your partnership with Castle is very similar to mine with Peter." Kate noticed that Olivia's hand had returned to the side of her bump and was gently drawing soothing circles there. "He started out as a civilian consultant brought in for a single case, but he became my partner in work and with time," her hands flicked out indicating her belly "my life."

Kate watched while Olivia's focus remained with her child, hands cupping and caressing the life within. She felt her breath hitch and a sense of longing overcame her, totally enveloping her in it's quicksand embrace. Since she and Castle been together, there had been seeds sewn of a conversation they had yet to have. The lack of a discussion didn't change the fact that increasingly Kate's thoughts had turned towards the possibility of starting a family with him, of what it would be like to create and carry their child, bring them into the world, to share the love they both had to give.

He'd hinted that he might be willing to take the plunge, and every time Kate caught undertones of his fiercely protective nature or saw evidence manifest of his fatherly tendencies, it made something within her flutter at the thought of them making it reality. However this overwhelming feeling was a first, it was a tangible feeling of want, of need. It squeezed at her lungs from within and stole her breath away. She had so far avoided bringing up the subject, but if he were here now, she would not have hesitated. The idea of starting a family was both elating and frightening; emotions that were battling inside her even now, but this was the first time she had actually felt ready.

She had never really had anyone to talk to about this, and here in front of her was a golden opportunity to talk with someone in a position very similar to her own. Would she have the same hopes and fears that Kate felt? She was surprised to find that there were tears welling up in her eyes, she brushed them away swiftly feeling vaguely ridiculous, but at the same time grateful for this dawning epiphany.

Olivia had looked back up by now catching Kate swiping tears from her glassy hazel-green eyes, she smiled and nodded. She thought she understood what Kate was feeling, it was something she too had buried deeply within herself, resolutely insisting it would be foolish and irresponsible to bring a child into a word she knew could be so unpredictable and cruel. But the yearning was always there, most notable in the time she spent with Ella, especially when the girl was younger, but even now, her maternal nature would flood from within and she could not deny what she truly hoped for, what she absolutely without doubt, wanted. Now she had been gifted with this, an opportunity she had secretly craved but very rarely dared to admit to herself, let alone anyone else. Yet here she was. More in love and more hopeful than she ever thought possible.

Kate sniffed and executed a mini eye roll to the left, scolding herself for tearing up in a coffee house in front of someone she hardly knew. "I'm sorry." she said her breath catching still. She could tell herself that it was the tension and pressure of the case getting to her, that she was missing Castle and the lack of both sleep and a decent meal were starting to tell. All of which were indeed contributing factors, but she would be doing herself a disservice to deny her true feelings now.

"It's ok" Olivia said reassuringly, then gave Kate time to regain her composure while she busied herself with a few sips of her tea. "You're thinking about it." She said, again not questioning, this was just one of those times when she knew she was right. Kate's focus returned to her. "Children?" Olivia prompted, also sensing that Kate might welcome someone with a sympathetic ear to lend on such a topic.

"Yeah, I think maybe I am." Kate whispered reverently.


	2. Chapter 2

**Characteristic Commonality**

_I knew when I wrote this that it was likely to fall in-between the cracks of the paved surface of this particular sprawling yellow brick road. However I am very pleased that some of you discovered and found enjoyment in it. Thank you for your kind words, favourites and follows, it seems a little encouragement goes a very long way._

_You can have my transformers if I can borrow Olivia and Kate a little longer…_

* * *

2

Beckett was left shaken, both physically and emotionally. Producing a reaction not unlike she sometimes experienced hours after involvement in an on the job shoot. She reached for her cooling coffee cup with a trembling hand and found it necessary to clasp it with both to control it enough to drink from. Perhaps this was her biological clock finally, belatedly making itself known, not with a gentle ticking, but marking the event with the equivalent of Big Ben striking the hour.

She briefly thought that Coffee might not be the best thing to dump into her system right now, but the warmth first in her hands, then - once she was confident she was not about to make herself wear it - as it slipped down her throat was welcome and calming. She was also glad that it wasn't so hot anymore enabling her to take several long gulps without scalding her tongue. By the time she had all but emptied the cup she felt better, in control of her faculties once more.

Her response had caused her focus to narrow to a point within herself, where she remained while she sifted through her emotions and thoughts. At last she surfaced from the inner deep and once again found herself under the intent scrutiny of the watching FBI agent, though Kate felt no sense of uneasiness for being there.

"You know, just a few short months ago I was right where you are now." Olivia said taking the initiative in driving the conversation, concurrently giving Kate time to think and more to think about. "I found myself imagining a future for Peter and I. Somehow, and I don't know how, because it felt like it came out of nowhere and at the same that it had been growing so slowly that it had been there for ages and I had just not noticed it, but by then it was so enormous that it had engulfed me.

"The want for a child set so deep in my soul that it made me ache, but which also scared me. All the doubts, the 'what ifs' born out of fear acted as a barrier to me even attempting to discuss it with the man I love and so desperately wanted this with."

Olivia's words, softly delivered in her low smoky tones, caused aftershocks to ripple through Kate's emotions in the wake of her seismic revelation, yet they were also soothing. They gave her a growing sense of hope that the state of peace she sensed Olivia Dunham now possessed, despite professing her past worries, could also be within her reach.

"I came to realise that the one and only thing standing in the way of everything I wanted," Olivia paused briefly, swallowing the last of her tea as well as the lump rising in her throat, she was once again reminded that she was only as broken as she allowed herself to be, she steeled herself nostrils flaring, her expression made of part smile part grimace "was me." Kate felt deeply connected on an almost empathic level not only by Olivia's impassioned words, for the Agent's eyes were speaking volumes and Kate was captivated by the palpable emotion she felt being transmitted through them.

"While this one here wasn't entirely planned, or expected, she was often thought about especially by me. We broached the subject of family, the pros and cons of trying." she shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head, "But by then, even though I didn't know it at the time, it was already too late for any doubts." Olivia would probably never be able to explain to anyone outside their immediate circle of trust about the events leading up to the discovery of her pregnancy, all of it extraordinary, however she thought that Beckett might understand the battle with fate better than most. She sensed that Kate too had a story to tell. She thought she could see the familiar markers of pain within her; much like that which she had carried for so many years. It was there still, as were her self-doubts, but because of her renewed hopes and dreams for their baby, with Peter and with the rest of her crazy little family - Walter, Astrid and Broyles, heck even Gene - surrounding her, she felt like she was mending by the day. "Perhaps she is the universes' way of telling Peter and I to just stop worrying and go for it."

That brought a watery smile. Kate blotted more tears on the sleeve of her sweater and brushed her hair behind her ear. "You're having a girl?"

Olivia re-established hand to belly contact, laying first her right hand on top of her tummy, the left atop that "Officially, we don't know. We decided not to find out on any of our scans." But then she added with a confidence, leaving room for little doubt. "But I have a pretty strong feeling she's a girl."

There was something about the certainty of Olivia's conviction, which perplexed Kate more than a little. "Mother's intuition?" she questioned.

At that Olivia gave a knowing smile, "Something like that."

* * *

Olivia had frequently wondered about the connection she felt to her child. She had a suspicion that their very special bond was forged very early on, perhaps before she even knew that she was pregnant. But she soon became convinced that this was indeed the case.

She thought back to the discussion she had with Peter the morning he'd begun combing the papers for a house. Her query about the spare bedroom being suitable for a nursery came out of her mouth before she had the sense to moderate her own thoughts, even though usually she would have had tight enough control on them to not just blurt something out like that.

It was the first time either of them had touched on the subject of having a baby, at least to one another. She was shocked that it was her who brought it out into the open and was already questioning herself as to just where that came from. But the look of sheer joy and hope, which she didn't have to see to know was there, she knew it had bloomed on Peter's face, felt it radiating from his body, mingled with his surprise. It was enough to quell the panic that was threatening to devour her. His hope, his belief gave her courage. Enough to push the jitters down, to give an affirming nod and reiterate the word, this time with out inflection, stripping it of the question. Nor was there one in her heart. Those came soon after of course.

Even during this initial phase of discussion, short as it was having been interrupted by the obligatory call to duty, she wondered about where that idea had come from, seemingly it bolted out of the blue. She had continued to ponder on that, alongside as the idea itself on the drive to the scene and again later, after the ordeal of the case and once she knew about the life she was carrying, she thought back to that point. Did her body know something her mind had yet to comprehend; was it whispering to her, alerting her to what it already knew was the truth?

Had her increasing volume of thoughts about babies been because on some level she already aware of her pregnancy, or, had she fallen pregnant because of an increasing secret desire for a baby? Everything had happened so fast once her memories of the original time line had been recovered. She was mostly convinced that conception was indeed 'an accident'. That she hadn't done anything to consciously or otherwise cause failure of birth control, as Walter often liked to remind them every method had a percentage of failure. But by the same token she would not have said she was one hundred percent certain she wasn't responsible for a slip. If questioned as to whether it was an accident, a consequence of their hectic life or of a growing desire, she would really not have been capable of providing a definitive answer.

There was one more suggestion of her pregnancy before they received confirmation at the hospital, one that with hindsight, she knew she should have paid greater attention to. Later that same day as she had addressed her worry that they had little chance for any semblance of a normal life, she was struck with a momentary bout of nausea, accompanying faintness, quickly brought under control and dismissed as apprehension, but which she understands may have been her first physical symptom, a hormonal signal waving 'Hey, all those things you're worrying about? Too late, I'm here'.

Maybe those were crazy thoughts of a stressed, shocked to know she was pregnant, mother to be, but Olivia thinks there was more to it. Since the point of discovery, she had experienced such a profound bond with her child that she could not dismiss the notion that the connection between her and the baby was somewhat unusual. She understood that most mothers develop a bond with their unborn child during pregnancy, but for her the experiences came very early on. She initially found them worrying as she wondered if they were the result of Cortexiphan and was therefore concerned as to what effect exposure could have on her unborn child. But the experience itself, the imagery she received was so profoundly beautiful she couldn't fail to acknowledge its very special nature.

Not that imagery would have been the right word for it, whatever 'it' was. It was more like a sensation, which her adult mind conjured into a mental picture, put together like a jigsaw; fragments here linking to fragments there, forming into something greater than the sum of its parts.

The first time she had this experience she was in the lab and it was fleeting, distracted from her inner world before she had chance to fully explore. They had all been sharing a late take out dinner in the lab having wrapped a case. Conversation was light, jovial and free flowing. Olivia allowed herself to be carried away on the rhythms of speech crafted by Peter, Walter and Astrid. Slowly she drifted out of active participation, content to listen.

She sunk deeper into the couch, a recent acquisition and one she knew had been made for her benefit, a concession intended to make her comfortable during her pregnancy, though she knew Walter too would certainly find occasion to make use of the exceptionally comfortable sofa. Her eyes slipped shut, and she felt the conversation slip away, her conscious mind finding distance between the world around her, and the one within.

She was in the space between the wakeful world and that of sleep, quite literally drifting. The landscape changed to one of comforting watery darkness. All sounds muffled, masked by submerged, bubbly bloops and gloops, she was being pulled effortlessly deeper down into this sub aqueous world, instinctively she knew there was more to find, discoveries to be made by her and her alone. But all too soon Peter was rousting her, gently calling her name and stroking her hair away from her face. "Hey, sleepy head," He said his voice soft, yet even so it was enough to sever her connection and cause her to surface once more from the deep "looks like it's time we got you to bed."

She was foggy for a minute after. She felt disappointment such as she did when leaving a really good dream before gaining resolution with a satisfactory ending. The desire to close her eyes and block out everyone and everything else, to get back _down_ there, was strong and there was also a sense of irrational frustration at Peter for waking her, removing her from that blissful state. But she held her emotions in check until things cleared up further with her gradual return to a fully conscious state.

Peter was watching her with evident concern, having observed her big green eyes clouded and shifting in confusion. "Sweetheart, are you ok?" he asked cupping her cheek with his comfortingly warm hand. That was the physical connection that she needed to break the spell which had been cast over her, his touch soothed and grounded her back in reality, simple contact imparting his love and that was more than enough to quell any lingering sense of frustration.

She nuzzled into his palm and a small smile graced her features. "Yeah," she sighed "sorry I was really out of it for a moment there." her voice raspy and words sill a little groggy.

He laughed softly, "Yeah you were. Come on, let's get you home." Peter drove and she dozed on the way, she was genuinely tired, but she didn't return to that special place again, at least not that night.

Only a few days later it happened once again, this time when she was fully awake, therefore she knew she wasn't experiencing this merely as the result of descending into dream state. She had been reading papers on the latest developments in criminal profiling, as one of her areas of specialty she always tried to keep up to date with recent case studies, even though for her it came down to the skill of the individual and their ability to connect with the facts of the case and where possible, with the victim. Then it was necessary to project one's self into the mindset of the offender, to begin to understand their values and from that get a handle on their specific signature.

She knew she was good at this, it came easily to her, sometimes she felt too easily, but perhaps the reason that she was so good at profiling, was the same reason for her ability to develop this specifically graphic bond with her child even at just twelve weeks gestation. Despite Walter's certainty that Cortexiphan levels in her blood were now negligible, therefore unlikely to have a lasting effect on her or her baby, she knew that it had bonded with her neurons, or at least it had in the original time line and she had been exposed to roughly the same dosage of treatment as a child in this timeline too, also receiving additional top ups in her adult life. Cortexiphan was now part of her, though it lay dormant in her brain for the most part, she felt it's lingering presence even outside moments of emotional distress.

Whatever the cause, the experience this time was even more powerful than the last, maybe a result of her mind being active throughout, she was able to rationalise as the manifestation took hold. Seated at a workstation in the lab where there was good natural light and with everyone working around her in relative quiet, the physical world around her swiftly faded into unimportance once the elusive communion was once more established.

It was like being back in the tank, in comforting watery warmth. There was a sensation of lightness, almost weightlessness, freedom in the dark. She could hear sounds filtered through submersion just as before. And something more; underlying everything was a rhythmic squelch, a beat, an undulation of pressure and Olivia instinctively knew it was her heart. She was experiencing herself from within, uniquely from her child's perspective.

She willingly immersed herself in this world and could feel the exhilaration coursing through her veins as she felt, almost 'saw' more. She sensed deep iridescent blue, and while she knew it wasn't really 'blueness' at all, that was merely the correlation her mind supplied. It was as if she were suspended in the sea, looking up through meters of the clearest water at the shimmering brightness of the moon and stars – and while that wasn't quite right, it was the closest her conscious mind could get to a comparison. She sensed fluctuating, gently receding, waves and somehow knew the baby had just drifted into sleep.

With that realisation Olivia ascended once more, this time leaving naturally, with pleasant gentleness and a sense of total relaxation. On her return, for it truly felt she had been _elsewhere_, she realised she was once more under scrutiny, this time Walter's. He sometimes surprised with his perception and unobtrusive observation, this it seemed was one such occasion, as Olivia felt sure he had been watching her for quite some time, though for how long she had no idea as she had no way to gauge the length of time she had been under.

Walter smiled gently; his eyes twinkled with partial insight and eager anticipation. "Olivia, where were you dear?" he asked softly. His question drew Peter's attention to their exchange, glancing up from his spaghetti like pile of gutted electronic gizmos currently being crafted into some unknown formation.

Olivia gave herself a moment, still processing and sorting her thoughts to make sense of what had transpired. She smoothed her hair, swallowed deeply then she spread her up turned hands. "I think I can feel the baby." she said wonderment and stupefaction evident in equal measure.

Walter gave an indulgent grin, "Oh, It's too early for that dear, you'll probably have to wait until seventeen or eighteen weeks before you feel movement from the foetus. You know at twelve weeks, as you are, your baby's sex organs, the pe…"

"Walter!" Olivia cut him off abruptly, amused but wanting to stop his rambling before he really got into his stride. She pushed her chair back from the desk a little "Not here," she indicated resting her hand the just forming bulge low on her belly. She brought the same hand up to lightly touch her forehead, "here. I feel her here."

And from that moment on, and through all subsequent experiences of imagery and sensation, she sensed with absolute clarity that her baby was a girl.

* * *

Kate had plenty of food for thought. But she came to realise that she was also in need of some real sustenance. The coffee had awakened her appetite and the cake display was frequently catching her eye.

Olivia caught and followed the direction of Kate's gaze, her own appetite which was admittedly more voracious than ever, once more demanding satisfaction. "You skipped lunch didn't you?" She asked Kate, who's eyes shifted back to her then dropped down almost guiltily. "Thought so, probably not much by the way of breakfast either." Kate snorted, busted. Good thing Castle wasn't there to give her his version of 'The Look', but then if he was here she wouldn't have missed any meals at all.

"Hey, you know, I could use some dinner too." Olivia admitted, feeling her tummy rumble now she'd started thinking in earnest about food. "I know a great place. I could really go for a burger and a root beer float right about now." It was all Walter's doing, since she had become pregnant his food obsessions had begun to rub off on her. Realising this, his impulse to share food, especially, but not exclusively with her, had become even more important to him. He would spend all day in the lab, or in his newly acquired apartment close to their house, knocking up elaborate dishes or sometimes massive meals with crazy combinations of foods which were more often than not completely, and mysteriously in sync with Olivia's cravings and desires. "Is he performing some kind of gastronomic mind control on me?" she asked Peter one day while tucking into her second slice of the pear and blue cheese tart Walter had brought in for lunch that day, when that very morning while gazing into the fridge she found herself wishing for something fruity and savoury and blue cheese had been something she had been wishing for, but not able to have for some time now, unless of course it was well cooked - queue the baked tart. She really didn't know if he was influencing her, or if it was now the other way around. She shrugged it off and continued munching away, why not reap the benefits of this mutual food obsession while the going was so deliciously good?

"You know a place?" Kate asked, sceptical of any non-New Yorker claiming to know 'a great place'. Remmy's was not far away, and that had been her go to place for years, but they didn't do root beer floats as far as she knew. Though she had never really looked.

Olivia shot Kate that 'Oh yeah, I know something' look of certainty once more. "My father in law is something of a connoisseur. He makes it his business to find the ultimate place for all his favourites, this one _is_ the best for burgers and floats, trust me."

Kate shrugged, "OK then, why not? I'll need some take out, if I go back to the station having stuffed myself without feeding the boys, I won't make it out of there alive tonight."

Olivia pushed herself up out of the chair, stiff from sitting so long, she arched her back supporting her lumbar region with her hands. "Before we go, two cups of tea need an exit route." She said nodding towards the bathroom. "Give me a moment or two?"

"Sure, no problem" she smiled.

While Olivia was away, Kate's thoughts once more returned to thoughts of babies, a family with Castle.

For the longest time she figured that children just would not be part of her life, which for the most part had been ruled by work not to mention the crusade to find those responsible for her mother's murder, along with all the dangers that quest had exposed her to, both from the men involved and her own stubborn will to get justice at any cost. It had taken its toll in both physical terms and perhaps left even more damage to her emotional and psychological health. Montgomery was right, for so long she had charged head first at the merest sniff of a lead, her search had consumed her.

No surprise then that relationships had been fleeting affairs, not just for her, but the guys she had gone for too. Castle had changed all of that. The moment he waltzed into her life, he had little by little begun to infiltrate her mind and heart. Their lives had become inextricable, they had forged a connection she had never envisioned herself having the desire for, never mind possessing the ability to sustain. But he was so much more than worthy of her efforts. Early in their relationship, even when it was still just a working one, she had often wondered why he felt her deserving of his effort, attention and devotion, but that was the old Beckett's way of viewing the world, he had helped bring her into this new, brighter one and shown her that together they could be so very good.

Still her doubts persisted. She could trace back from the root of her doubt to the seed it was grown from over a decade ago.

* * *

When Kate was 23 and while her father was in grips of destructive alcoholism, he delivered the singular most devastatingly terrible thing anyone had ever said to her. It has haunted her like nothing had ever before, or has since. Even though it was dispatched from the mouth of a drunken man swallowed by his own pain and grief, it cut her to the bone, left a wound so deep it had never properly healed and which still, to this day, made her question herself and her ability to be a parent.

She was still just a rooky officer not long out the Gramercy Park academy, having returned home when late one October evening, already a full shift under her belt and a gruelling self-imposed workout at the gym, she returned home to her tiny apartment to see the answering machine glaring with a bold red seven displayed on the digital readout. Before she checked the messages she pulled her phone from the bottom of her bag where it had been buried beneath her dirty kit. Six missed calls, all from her father and voice mail too. "Shit" she whispered to herself while she made her way over to the machine, hitting the play button. She listened while she deposited her dirty kit in her laundry sack. His messages played back to back, recorded over the space of several hours while she had been at work and in the gym. From the deteriorating diction and the increased slur to his words, she knew he would by now be flat-out drunk. Each message essentially consisting of the same thing - asking her to come over, he needed to talk - but the tone of each one became steadily darker, more needy and menacing.

Kate scrubbed her hand down her face; this was not what she needed after an already exhausting day. But she knew there was no question of putting it off, she would go. He knew she would too. This was not the first time she had received messages like this, and never did the resulting visit go well. She didn't bother to return the call, she just grabbed her jacket, keys and laundry - at least she could do that while she tended to his needs, whatever they may be - and headed back out.

During the drive to his house she tried to mentally prepare herself for the likely scenario; her Father wasted and angry, liable to lash out whether he was given the slightest provocation or not. She would be his target, as she so often was, there was no one else. Unfortunately she was not wrong.

She could handle it if his chosen outlet was physical, with her training verses a severely drunk man, there would have been no contest. But her father had never resorted to this, oh no, he knew there were much more effective ways to ensure destruction.

She put up with several hours of his put downs and accusations, all the while trying to tidy up the house after him, get him cleaned up and make him something to eat. Judging by his state and that of the house, the emptiness of the fridge and the quantity of empty bottles littering each room, he hadn't bothered to eat anything for a day or two. Suggesting he get help now would be pointless, only serving as further ammunition for him to hurl at her, so she kept tight lipped on the subject, even though she wished with all her heart that he would one day allow someone to give him the support she knew he so desperately needed.

Seeing him like this was bad enough, but the things he was capable of saying when he was in such a state was the absolute worst. Kate didn't know how much more of this she could take and she got her answer that night. He asked her to go to the store, not for food, but for more scotch. His bender had been so sustained that he had consumed almost his entire stash. Asking deteriorated into begging when she flat out refused, this was just about the only thing that he could ask of her that she would not entertain and her own anger rose at his insistent and increasingly desperate request. "You know I can't do that dad. I won't." it hurt to refuse him, hurt that she had to and had to see him like this, un-spilled tears burned her eyes, she tried not to let them fall.

"Please Katie, I need it," he said attempting to guilt her into bending to his will, "I hurt without it, Katie, please." his only daughter shook her head and swiped her eyes angrily. Realising that she would not sway, the begging stopped abruptly and he retorted in the most hurtful way he possibly could. "You'd make a horrible mother Kate." He slurred, yet spite and unmistakable malice dripped from his words. The effort of delivering this final blow, it seemed, was his last act for the evening. He passed out on the couch, the final bottle of scotch still open in his hand.

Kate was momentarily stunned, she watched him as he slumped and began to snore. It didn't take long however for her anger to spark, then ignite into billowing black rage. She flew out of the house, then fuelled by her own volatile emotional state and building exhaustion it soon became an inferno, consuming her, burning away any semblance of rationalism. She slammed the door to her father's house and ran to her car, its door also received rough treatment once she was in. She angrily tugged the belt into place and with shaking hands and rising frustration she fumbled the buckle unable to get it to lock. "Damn it!" she shouted giving up until she rid herself of a little of her pent up frustration she hammered her fists on the steering wheel while she continued with a maelstrom of angry expletives. She had to get out of there, so redoubled her efforts on the belt, finally clipping into place, she jammed the key in the ignition and peeled away from the kerb on protesting rubber.

She drove way too fast, barley focusing on the road at all. His words echoed in her mind, which so readily recalled each and every minute detail of his delivery, the snarl, the slur, the moment the outrage in his eyes winked out, to be replaced with an awful and somehow infinitely worse dead, empty look.

Kate only made it two miles away before she crumpled, as instantly as her anger had risen, it gave way to utter desolation of her spirit. She pulled hard into the kerb and sat sobbing uncontrollably, despair was ripped from her with a violence she could not comprehend. She had been no stranger to heartbreak; her mother's murder had left a permanent scar in her heart. She had fought hard not to be sucked down by it completely, instead she had channelled energy into her career with the NYPD, for she knew she needed an outlet, needed to feel that there was some measure of justice out there in the world even as she struggled through her own pain because she had none for herself, for her mother. But this, what she felt right at that moment? It was something else entirely.

And perhaps the worst part was that there was another thought, this one her own voice in her mind asking over and over 'Why are you even upset? It's not like it was ever going to happen for you. You're too broken for that. You've already made your choice.' Her father's doubt had assimilated her own. Pain and anguish burned within her yet she felt ice cold, she shook with it and her stomach knotted. With very little warning she realised she was going to throw up, she opened the door barley able to lean out enough to avoid ruining the carpet of her car. She was livid at him for saying such a thing, indignant that she would allow herself to be so hurt by it, but most of all she was terrified that he may be right.

Being sick had left her feeling drained and empty, which had very little to do with having no food left in her stomach. She sat still, numbed by events, wondering if there was possibly a way back from this, she was closer than she ever thought she could be to giving up on her father. She didn't know it but more than an hour passed before she finally pulled herself together enough to resume her drive home once more.

* * *

She watched Olivia as she came back from the rest room. She moved with natural grace and ease which seemed enhanced, not hindered by the extra weight she carried. She really did possess that mythical glow, and judging by the way people looked at her, Kate was not the only person who recognised it. The glow was reflected on the faces of those around Olivia, they smiled at her with uncommon ease, even some of those not interacting directly with her and somehow it once more translated to Kate filling her with a sense of hope.


End file.
